


For My Lover, Returning

by lielabell



Series: In the Garden [1]
Category: Big Time Rush, The Chemical Garden Trilogy, The Chemical Garden Trilogy/Big Time Rush, Wither
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bondage, Camera does not pan up, Dom/sub, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jett loves Kendall, Jett's POV, Kendall loves Jett, M/M, Object Insertion, Past Abuse, Polygamy, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, This is actually happy fic, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust is a wonderful, magical gift.  Trust, in Jett’s mind, is more precious than love.  Because love isn’t something that is easily killed, but trust can vanish in less than a second.  </p><p>Jett loved Kendall well before he trusted him.  Loved him with all his being, body and soul combined, before he fully learned to stop hiding from him.  Before he was comfortable sleeping through the night with him.  Before he could look Kendall in the eye while they made love. </p><p>Trust is the most precious gift that Jett could ever give.  And he has given all of his to Kendall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For My Lover, Returning

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE TAKE THE WARNINGS SERIOUSLY. While nothing non-con happens in this fic, previous abuse is referenced **heavily**. 
> 
> For those of you who have no read Wither, The Chemical Gardens Trilogy here is a short summery about the world:
> 
>  
> 
> _A botched effort to create a perfect race has left all males with a lifespan of 25 years, and females with a lifespan of 20 years. Geneticists are seeking a miracle antidote to restore the human race, desperate orphans crowd the population, crime and poverty have skyrocketed, and young girls are being kidnapped and sold as polygamous brides to bear more children._
> 
>  
> 
> For this fic, I have flipped the gender roles. Males live to 20 and are the ones in danger of being kidnapped and sold into marriage.

Jett stands in the kitchen, debating his options. There’s the tried and true, a cheese plate -- complete with grapes, crackers and assorted sausages -- then there’s the risk, raw oysters with a lemon-mango sauce. Both would go well with the crisp, dry white he’s had decanted, but which would Kendall prefer? That’s the question. Jett sucks on his lower lip, hands knotting in his apron. The cheese plate or the oysters? The familiar or the exotic? What should it be? 

There is a loud beep from the intercom and then Lucy’s voice calling out his name. “Jett!” 

He hurries across the room to respond, all the while frowning at the interruption. He needs to be in the right head-space, and talking to Lucy will not help with that. “Yes?” he asks as politely as possible, his finger pressing down on the button. 

“T-minus twenty minutes and counting,” she replies, amusement coming in loud and clear. 

Jett smiles in spite of himself. “Thank you, Lucy.”

“You’re welcome,” she says. 

Jett releases the button, but a crackle on the line keeps him from moving away completely. “Was there anything else?” he asks when the silence draws out too long. 

Lucy sighs into the line and then answers, “Don’t overthink it, ‘kay? He’ll like whatever you serve him. Hell, he probably won’t touch it anyway. Not when he gets a good look at you. So... yeah. Don’t overthink it.”

Jett scowls at the intercom. “How do you even,” he starts, but Lucy cuts him off with a laugh. 

“Jett, Jett, Jett. You can’t honestly think you have any secrets left?” She laughs again. “Look, go with the cheese plate. That way you only have to deal with sweaty cheese and shriveled up sausages in the morning. If you pick the shellfish, the whole house will reek halfway through the night.”

“I hate you,” Jett snarks, then feels that old familiar flash of fear because, while Lucy may not be his wife, she is still a woman and he --

“Snap out of it.” Lucy’s voice is both harsh and gentle at the same time. “You are safe, Jett. No one’s going to punish you for being sassy. Well... no one going to going to punish you for real, that is. God only knows what Kendall might do if you take that tone with him, but we _all_ know that you’ll love it.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, though it’s nowhere near as carefree a laugh as Lucy’s was. “Alright, alright. I’ll go with the cheese plate. Now will you piss off already? I need to put my face on.”

“The hell you do. You’ve had ‘your face on’ since nine this morning, just in case.”

Jett laughs for real with time. “Fine then, _you_ need to put _your_ face on. And we’re under the fifteen minute mark now. So go away and don’t bother me again until morning.”

“Please,” Lucy says, her voice as dry as the wine Jett’s got waiting, “I won’t bother you until afternoon. And you had better not even think about bothering me before then either, if you know what’s good for you.”

Jett smiles. “Sounds like someone is planning on having morning after sex.”

“You’re damn right I will. And no cocks allowed, thank you very much.” 

“Not even plastic ones?”

Lucy laughs again. “Well, maybe plastic ones. Maybe not. We’ll see. Meanwhile, I’ve got things to do and you’ve got a cheese plate to arrange. So how about we end this chat and get on that?” 

“Sounds good like a plan. Have fun tonight, Lucy.”

“You too, my favorite not-husband.”

Jett snorts at that and shakes his head as he makes his way back to the kitchen. “Tried and true,” he murmurs, “on it.”

*

Jett hates when Kendall goes on tour. Hates it. It’s not safe outside of the compound, no matter what anyone might say about it. Jett knows. He’s been there, on the outside with no one to protect him, no one to shield him from the real world. He’s been there, and Kendall has not. 

Yes, Kendall is a man full grown, married to one of the most wonderful women Jett has had the pleasure of meeting, and living a life that many a man would envy: his brother-husbands are his friends, his wife genuinely cares for him and Kendall is free to use his body however he wants. He is allowed to choose who he plays stud for and to keep the money that he earns from studding for his own uses, which is all but unheard of. Camille treats him well, gives him enough food to eat and his own house to live in. Lets him find his pleasure where he wants and doesn’t call him a freak and a failure when “where he wants” turns out to be Jett. 

And that’s amazing. More than Jett would have believed possible before Jo rescued him and brought him back to the Palm Woods, made him part of Camille’s crazily high functioning family. 

But still, that doesn’t mean that it is safe out there. It’s not. Any little mistake, one wrong turn and it can all be taken away from him, from them. Gatherers lurk in the shadows, ready and willing to snatch any male they can get their hands on. Any one can be taken at any time. Even moderately famous men with wives who love them and will come looking for them. You hear horror stories on the news all the time, stories about men just as loved as Kendall is, who were taken from their homes and sold into the sort of depravity Jett has had to experience first hand. 

And most of those men? They don’t come back. No matter how many tears their brother-husbands' cry or how much money their caring wives toss at private detectives. 

So, yeah. Jett fucking hates it when Kendall is out on tour. Because every second that he’s not safe inside the compound’s high walls is a second where things could go wrong. A second where Jett could lose the thing that matters most to him. 

And nothing anyone says to him can ever make him forget that.

*

Not ten minutes later he is standing at the front door, in his best suit, with his hair mussed just the way Kendall likes it and the barest hint of gloss on his lips. Kendall, for his part, is looking gobsmacked, his mouth hanging open in a way that is only attractive due to the deepest of affection on Jett’s part. 

“Miss me?” Jett purrs, wrapping his arms around Kendall’s neck and pressing their bodies together. 

“Always,” Kendall replies, his arms winding around Jett’s waist. 

The kiss that follows is practically timid, sweet and lingering in a way that their kisses almost never are. Jett knows that not much later there will be teeth and tongue and Kendall’s hands clenched tight in his hair, but this kiss is the first they’ve shared in nearly three months and is more of a “welcome home” than anything else, cheese plate notwithstanding. 

“Hi,” Kendall says when they finally break apart for air.

Jett smooths Kendall’s hair back into place. “Hi,” he repeats, almost shy. “I, um, made you a cheese plate.”

Kendall gives him an indulgent smile. “Of course you did.” He kisses the corner of Jett’s mouth. 

Jett grins back at him, stepping out of his arms. “Come in already, why don’t you? It’s cold outside and I’ve got the heater on.” He tugs Kendall into the house, then shuts the door behind him. “Just go rest on the couch. I’ll bring you something to drink and that cheese plate and,” he glances down at the floor then back up at Kendall’s face, “and maybe you can tell me about your trip?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Kendall replies. He toes out of his shoes and loosens his tie. “But let me get out of this ridiculous outfit first. I don’t know why Cam insists we have to travel in suits. It’s pointless. No one can see us inside the bus.”

“But everyone can see you when you get off it,” Jett points out as he makes his way into the kitchen. “You know the only time the cameras stop rolling on you lot is when you are safe inside the Palm Woods. Wouldn’t want to disappoint all your adoring fans by wandering off the tour bus in your ratty sweats and threadbare tees, now would you? And, besides, Cam likes the way you look in suits. So does Jo, for that matter.” 

Kendall snorts. “Well, I don’t like it. But I guess I’m outvoted.” He runs a hand through his hair, then starts undoing the buttons on his shirt as he makes his way into the living room. “Did you really lay these out for me?” a huff of amusement. “Of course you did. My favorite ones, too. Even though you hate my ‘ratty sweats and threadbare tees’ more than any of my fans ever could. God, Jett. How are you even real?” 

_How am I real? How are you real is the better question,_ Jett thinks as he pours the wine and busies himself with last minute changes to the presentation on the tray. “It’s not hard to anticipates your wants, Kendall. You are terribly predictable.”

Whatever Kendall’s reply may be is muffled by the shirt he pulls over his head. Jett shivers a little as he hears Kendall tug his belt free, then the unmistakable sound of pants hitting the floor. 

“You don’t have to put them on, you know,” he calls out while he corks the bottle. “We could just have a nice little picnic in the nude.”

Kendall chuckles. “Um. No. Not going to happen. Because eating naked isn’t nearly as sexy as you think it is.”

“Yes, actually, it is.” Jett puts a little snark into his words. “But, fine, dress yourself in rags. It’s not like what I want matters. If it did, you wouldn’t go on those ridiculous tours. It’s not safe out there.”

“Jett,” Kendall’s voice is annoyed. “Don’t start with that shit. I just got home, I want to unwind and relax, not listen to you bitch about things you know are never going to change. So, please, don’t push me.” 

Jett makes a show of being displeased, letting out a put upon sigh and flouncing into the room sulkily. “But I like pushing you,” he pouts as he places the tray on the coffee table. “You like it when I push you, you know you do.”

“Hum.” Kendall picks up a piece of cheese and tosses it into his mouth. “Good,” he says after he swallows. “A little tart, but I like ‘em that way.” He raises an eyebrow at Jett. “Where’s my wine?” 

Jett crosses his arms over his chest, pout still firmly in place. “Maybe I don’t want to get your wine.”

Kendall mirrors his posture. “Oh? Is that how we are going to be? Fine.” He pushes up off the couch, rolling his shoulders. “It was nice to see you, Jett, but I think I’m going to go home now.”

Jett’s jaw drops. “What? No! Kendall.” He grabs hold of the other man’s arm, but Kendall sakes him free. “Please, I’m sorry,” he says, stepping in front of Kendall before dropping to his knees. “Don’t go. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“You couldn’t be good if you tried.” Kendall lets out a little sigh. “Get up, Jett, and get me my wine. And stop being a brat. I want to be talk to you for a little first, is that really so terrible? Me wanting to know what you’ve been up to for the last three months?”

Jett stands, quick to do Kendall’s bidding, while Kendall settles himself on the couch again. “What do you think I’ve been up to? I’ve been here, haven’t I?” Jett makes his way back to Kendall’s side, holding out the wine glass when he gets there. “Minding the house and taking care of Joey, same as I always am. _I’m_ not the one who goes off jaunting about.” 

Kendall takes a sip of wine before replying. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were jealous, when I know for a fact that you flat out refuse to ever leave the compound.”

Jett hunches his shoulders, jittery with panic at the thought. “God, no. Give me sticky fingers and dirty floors any day.”

“Hey,” Kendall’s hand is warm on his arms, “come down here,” he says, patting the cushion next to him.

“Was it exciting?” Jett asks as he complies, but instead of the couch, he opts to kneel at Kendall’s feet, pressing his side into Kendall’s legs. “Did all the women sigh after you? Did they offer Cam five times the going rate?” 

Kendall runs a hand through Jett’s hair, tugging just slightly. “Five times? Try ten times. That Mercedes,” his voice trails off as Jett’s body stiffens. “Shit, I’m sorry, I,” Kendall’s hands cup Jett’s face, forcing him to meet Kendall’s eyes. “Are you alright? I shouldn’t have mentioned her. I know,” he shakes his head. “Are you alright?”

Jett bites his lower lip and tries not to let the panic in him show as he nods. 

“No, you’re not.” Kendall’s thumbs brush across Jett’s cheekbones. “But you will be, because I’ve got you. You’re safe here, Jett. No one’s ever going to hurt you again. You understand? Because you are mine. And you are Jo’s and nothing will ever change that. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Jett whispers, the panic starting to fade from him. 

“You’re _mine_ ,” Kendall repeats, voice fierce, and then he’s kissing Jett and there’s nothing sweet about it.

*

The thing is, Jett wasn’t always Kendall’s. Hell, sometimes Jett can’t believe he really is Kendall’s at all. It’s all so new, and, even if it wasn’t, it’s far too good to be true. Good things don’t happen to Jett. When they do, they almost always end up being bad things in disguise. 

Like being gathered. Most boys who get gathered end up being sold as husbands to the those that can afford the Gatherers’ price, but that didn’t happen to Jett. Jett was too scrawny, no matter his pretty face, and the woman who ran the gathering operation that snatched him off the street hadn’t wanted to waste the money on enough food to fatten him up. She had taken one look at his sunken cheeks and snarled, then she’d snapped her fingers and Jett was bustled down a hall and into a cell crammed full of other hollow cheeked, vacant eyed boys. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed down there before being sold, but it was long enough for the light to hurt when he was finally taken out again. What waited for him when he finally left was worst: an illegal breeding house. Or at least that’s what they called it. But no actually breeding went on there, seeing as how it only catered to men. 

The owners gave even less of a damn about Jett than the Gatherers had, feeding him just enough to stay conscious and only untying him from the bed when he needed to shit or piss. They washed him down once a week by making him stand naked in line with all the other boys and tossing icy buckets of water at them until it ran clean. Jett was sure, at the time, that he was living in hell, that he had sunk as far as he could go. But then the cops busted the place and Jett was sold to Rina, who made him her sixth husband and took him home, and god. The things his so-called brother-husbands had done to him made everything that had happened in the breeding house look good. Because at least back there the man were expected to fuck as fast as possible and not damage the merchandise while they were at it, whereas his brother-husbands had no such compunction. 

Being married to Rina meant more than just being beaten and abused by his brother-husband’s, though. It meant being dressed up and dragged around town, being studded out to whatever woman was willing to pay the highest fee, being forced to service woman after woman until his skin felt raw at the very thought of someone touching him. 

But what bothered him the most, what made him long to go back to being trapped in the breeding house, was that he was supposed to _like_ it. The women who bought him expected him to _enjoy_ what was happening to him. In the breeding house no one ever asked him to smile and flirt and make himself agreeable. No one forced him to pretend like he wanted the men fucking him. And no one beat him so bad he nearly died just because he was able to pull the prize someone else had had their eye on. 

Though, in some ways, it’s a good thing they did. Because if his brother-husbands had held back that night, if they had just let Jett stealing Mercedes’s attention slide, then Jo never would have caught them mid act, never would have taken Jett from them and where would Jett be now if that hadn’t happened? 

Probably dead in a ditch, that’s where. 

But he’s not dead in a ditch. He’s safe in his own house with the man he loves. All because Jett went too far, pushed the line. And so really, a twisted part of him is almost grateful to his vicious bastards of brother-husbands. Because without them and their need to destroy every scrap of his soul, he never would have had this.

He still wants them dead, make no mistake about that. If he could, he would most definitely arrange for their murders. And Rina’s too, that heartless bitch. 

But Jett doesn’t let himself think about them too much these days. Because what came before? It doesn’t matter at all. Not now, not after Jo rescued him, married him proper and brought him back to Camille’s compound. Brought him to Kendall, who had hated him so much at first, but grew to care for him in the end. Kendall, who knew just how to smooth over the tears and scars in Jett’s psyche. Kendall, who knew that tender only worked so far, and that tough was what made Jett’s toes curl. 

*

“Are you ready for me?” Kendall asks, his mouth swollen from Jett’s desperate kisses. Jett nods, blushing a little as he thinks about how he stretched himself, working four fingers in as he slicked himself up in anticipation of Kendall’s return. “Good,” Kendall croons, his lips ghosting over Jett’s cheeks. “I love it when you do that.”

Jett inches back, runs a hand up Kendall’s flank and asks for permission with his eyes. 

“What do you say?” Kendall prompts. 

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please may I suck you? Please? Just a little before you fuck me. I,” Jett ducks his head, “I want to feel your cock stretching my mouth, want to taste your pre-come on my lips. Please, Kendall, may I?”

Kendall’s pupils are blown wide and for a moment Jett thinks he’ll say yes, but instead he shakes his head. “No.” He pulls Jett up to him on the couch, slotting their mouths together. Kendall’s tongue flicks against Jett’s, teasing him until Jett is moaning and rubbing himself against Kendall's leg. 

“Please,” he begs when Kendall breaks the kiss. “Please let me suck you.”

“No,” Kendall replies coolly. His hands skim down Jett’s shoulders, squeezing his biceps briefly before skimming across his chest to pinch at Jett’s nipples. “Like that?” he asks as Jett gasps. 

Jett nods. “Yes,” he says because he does. He likes everything Kendall does. Even when it’s just hour long make out sessions on Jett’s bed, with them both fully clothed and hard as hell and Kendall refusing to do anything about it. Because it’s _Kendall_ , and Kendall makes Jett’s body sing without even trying.

“That’s my good boy,” Kendall praises, and Jett knows just what sort of a night he’s in for. He shivers a little and bites his lower lip, because Kendall is in a mood to taunt him, to tease him until his throat is raw from begging, and Jett, well Jett is perfectly happy to play along. 

*

Jo didn’t give him to Kendall right away. Hell, Jo didn’t introduce him to Kendall for months. She waited until Jett was fully recovered, until all the bruises had faded and his bones had healed and he had finally, finally put on some weight. And even then, she limited the contact. Kendall was angry, so very angry, at Jett for taking what he had seen as his place. Never mind that Kendall was really just Jo’s playmate, not her husband at all, and, as far as Jett could tell, Kendall was pleased as punch to be married to Cam. 

There had been an understanding, he told Jett, the first time they were left alone together. He was Jo’s husband in all but name, Joey, Jo’s son, was his son, and Jett was nothing. Jett didn’t matter at all. Oh, how he’d hated Jett, for stepping into his place and wearing Jo’s ring and parenting his and Jo’s son. But there was nothing he could do about it, nothing except seethe and mutter nasty things whenever Jo wasn’t around to hear. 

Jett, for his part, ate it up. Hate was an emotion he knew how to deal with, whereas kindness and affection and tenderness were not. He could look Kendall in the eye and smirk and simper and just bask in all that lovely, easy to understand hate. With Kendall he always knew where he stood, which was never the case for Jo or Carlos or any of the others. 

With them, Jett didn’t know how to proceed. Should he offer himself to Cam’s brother-husbands, as the newest member of the compound? Should he cater to Jo’s every whim, as her only husband? Was he supposed to take Cam up on her teasing, offer to give her a sample of his skills when she cooed about his reputation in the sack? Jett had no idea. Every choice he made seemed to be the wrong one, seemed to earn him more sympathy and concerned looks, and god, it was killing him all that tender emotion. 

With Kendall he was free to poke and prod and needle, and Jett made sure to do it every chance he could get. 

*

“On your back,” Kendall says, his voice rough with want. Jett lays down on the couch, eager to comply “Lift your hips.” Jett does, and Kendall quickly strips off his pants and underwear. “Beautiful,” he breathes before leaning down to nip at Jett’s hipbones. 

Jett lets out a whimper and Kendall rolls his eyes up, smiling at him across the expanse of Jett’s body. Jett’s hand reaches out, fingers tracing over Kendall's cheek, before darting back to his side. Hot air hits Jett’s hip as Kendall lets out a huff of amusement. 

“In a bold mood tonight, aren’t you?” he says as he settles himself firmly between Jett’s legs. Jett bites his lower lip and nods, unable to meet Kendall’s eye. “Hey.” Kendall’s hand skims up Jett’s body, tilts Jett’s chin up, forcing him to make eye contact. “Whose boy are you?”

“Yours,” Jett answers softly.

“That’s right,” Kendall replies. “You’re mine. And what does that mean?” Jett licks his lips, squirming a little under Kendall’s gaze. Kendall smooths a hand over Jett’s hip. “Focus, beautiful.” Jett takes a deep breath, grounding himself in Kendall’s touch. “You good?” Kendall asks. Jett nods and Kendall gives him a pleased grin. “Good. Now, tell me, what does that mean?”

“It means you’re mine,” Jett answers, once again unable to meet Kendall’s eyes. The words are as unsettling now as they were the first time he said them, but now they leave a warm spot in his chest alongside the other feeling.

Kendall squeezes his hip. “That’s right, I’m yours.” And then, because he’s Kendall and Kendall has always been able to read Jett like a book, he shifts lower, hooks Jett’s legs over his shoulders, spreads Jett’s cheeks and licks delicately between them. Jett lets out a harsh cry, arching into the touch as Kendall slides his tongue over and around and then finally in.

“You,” Jett gasps, “you don’t have to. I’m already loose, already ready for you.” Kendall doesn’t respond, just presses his face closer, buries his tongue _deeper_ , keeps licking and sucking until Jett’s bucking back against him, trying to get more. “Please,” he begs as he tosses his head. “Please, god, Kendall. I need _more_. Please give your boy more.” 

And, just like that, Kendall stops. 

His hands drop from Jett’s hips as he pulls back, pulls away. Jett moans as Kendall gently sets his hips back down, slides out from between his legs and crosses the room. 

“Please,” he whispers, tears in his eyes, “please don’t leave me.” He can’t tell if Kendall hears or not, but it doesn’t make a difference. Either way, Kendall’s gone.

*

Being given to Kendall was like a slap in the face. Jett didn’t understand, not for a long time, why Jo had done it in the first place. Didn’t realize that it was a gift to both of them, not the punishment he originally thought it to be.

Jo could see, long before Jett could, that Kendall was the one who could love him, treasure him, make him whole. That the anger and antagonism that colored their interactions wasn’t a sign of Kendall’s hatred, as Jett had believed it to be, but of his unhappiness at the thought of Jett belonging to anyone other than him. 

But, still, things were difficult for them at the beginning. Even after they realized that they were equally interested in fucking each other as fighting, it took awhile for them to find a rhythm together. 

Mainly because Jett just wasn’t programmed to respond well to anything other than unhappiness and fear. Shouting, he could deal with. Balled up fists, no problem. Rage, he can handle. Anything else made his stomach knot up and his skin itch. So while the sex was always great, mind numbing actually, everything else... well, it threw him. Kendall was firm in bed, yes, but almost gentle everywhere else. And even in bed he could sometimes be playful. There was laughter, for one thing, and teasing and affection. Kendall liked long kisses and hugs and playful wrestling matches. He smiled as he tore Jett apart, chuckled at Jett’s frantic noises and hissed curses. Called him “lovely” and “beautiful” and said that Jett was his boy. It was baffling. Confusing in a way that nothing else had ever been. Most of all, it made Jett ache inside, made him want desperately for something he never knew existed. 

And Jett _hated_ it. 

He fought every sign of affection with tooth and nail, screamed at Kendall until his throat hurt. Called him every name under the sun, told him he hated him, begged Jo to take him back. He scowled and sulked and pouted, refused to do anything Kendall asked of him and generally acted like the most ungrateful brat on the planet. But all his tantrums never seemed to phase Kendall. Hell, they seemed to make Kendall want him _more_. To treat him _nicer_. Like he was proving a point or something. 

A point that everyone else seemed to get. Everyone except Jett that is. 

*

Kendall doesn’t do this often, but it’s happened enough for Jett to know what to do. 

Jett closes his eyes and takes long, deep breaths. Kendall will come back. Kendall always comes back. And he’ll be pleased if Jett doesn’t move. He’ll call him precious, tell him he’s a good boy, and then there will be more kisses and cuddles. Still, it feels like forever that he’s left lying there, his hands curled into fists by his sides, his legs spread out where Kendall dropped them, before he hears Kendall’s footsteps coming towards him.

His breath hitches and his hands press flat against the soft fabric of the couch. Then Jett steadies himself and opens his eyes to find Kendall standing over him, a warm, indulgent look on his face. 

“What color are you?” Kendall asks, his voice as even and unaffected as if they were discussing the weather. 

“Green,” Jett says, though honestly he’s sliding towards yellow. Not close enough for his answer to be a lie, but close enough for his voice to break a little. Kendall’s face clouds over.

“Are you sure?” he prompts and Jett nods. “Alright then. Good.” He crouches down beside Jett and places a hand on Jett’s ankle. “I want you to count backwards from twenty, then get up and go to the playroom. I’ve set something up in there. You’ll know what I want you to do once you see what it is. I’ve got some things to take care of, shouldn’t be more than five, ten minutes, then I’m going to come find you. Will you be ready and waiting for me when I come?” Jett nods again, not trusting his voice. “Good,” Kendall says. “Start counting down now.”

Jett does as he’s told, trying hard not to focus on the sound of Kendall once again walking away from him. Because Kendall will come back. Kendall always comes back. And it will be in Jett’s best interests to be exactly where Kendall wants him when he does.

When he finally hits zero, Jett pushes himself upright on the couch and gets shakily to his feet. It shouldn’t affect him so much, the lack of contact, but it does. It makes him feel off balance, out of sync with the world. Like he’s been left alone for hours instead of minutes. He focuses on taking long, deep breaths, calming himself as he moves down the hall to the old study that Jo let them convert into a playroom.

Kendall’s right, it’s clear what he wants the second Jett steps through the playroom door. The sling is set up in the dead center of the room, bracketed on either by trays, both covered with toys: one for pleasure, the other for pain. Jett shivers and he makes his way over, letting his fingers slide along the smooth silicone of the anal beads before testing the edge of one of the spokes on the pinwheel. 

Jett sucks on his lower lip as he levers himself up into the sling, wondering what Kendall has in mind. 

*

Sometimes Jett is sure this is all just a dream, that in a moment or two he will wake up huddled in a doorway, or tied to a bed, or chained to the bathroom floor. That this is all just a fever dream, something that can be yanked away. How can it be real? How can it be? What did Jett ever do to deserve something as perfect and wonderful as what he has here? 

Jett’s nothing. A waste of space. Something to be used up a tossed out with the rest of the trash. What right does a freak like him have to be so damn happy? Just the fact that he’s got a nice, warm house, soft sheets and good food seems _wrong_ , and that’s not even factoring in Jo and Kendall and the rest of them. 

Everyone at the compound is nice to him, everyone. Even the Jennifers, who aren’t nice at all as a matter of principle. And Lucy and Carlos are his _friends_. Honest to god. They call him up to talk, invite him over to watch crap movies and actually seem to enjoy his company without there being any sex involved at all. 

Logan and James... well, they aren’t his friends like Lucy and Carlos are, but they still smile when they see him and ask after his day. And James never gets upset at Jett for not having sex with him, even though James pouted for a week and muttered about selfish bastards when Kendall told him not only no, but fuck no coupled with a hard right to the face when James asked Kendall to share. 

Kendall... God, Kendall. He doesn’t seem real at all. With his ridiculous eyebrows and slumpy fashion sense, his hair in his eyes and his stupid grin. Kendall makes Jett’s heart skip a beat without even trying. And Kendall wants _him_. It’s just not logical. Kendall could have anyone. Jett’s seen the fuss women make over him, the money they toss his direction for stud rights. But Kendall turns them all down, comes home to Jett and fucks him for free.

It just doesn’t seem right, that Jett should be so lucky. It doesn’t seem right at all.

*

“Look at you,” Kendall says, paused halfway through the door. “God, you’re gorgeous.” Jett flushes, shifting a little. The sling sways, rocking him gently and Kendall lets out a moan. “How are you so gorgeous?” he asks and he closes the distance between them. Jett sucks in a breath as Kendall runs a hand up his leg, shivering at his touch. “So responsive. You are always so damn responsive. My beautiful boy,” Kendall praises, nudging Jett’s leg a little higher before adjusting the stirrup. 

Jett waits until it’s buckled in place before flexing his foot, testing the give. Kendall flicks his thigh, but smiles at him and Jett can’t help but smirk back. “Do you like how I look,” Jett asks, “all spread out for you?” 

Kendall raises an eyebrow and steps closer, presses his hard cock into the curve of Jett’s ass. “What do you think?”

Jett smirks a little more. “I think you are wearing far too many clothes.”

“Oh, do you?” Kendall steps back, reaches for something on the pleasure side. “Funny, I don’t think so at all.” 

“Kendall,” Jett whines. “I want you in me.”

Kendall nods. “I know you do.” He uncaps a bottle of lube and squeezes some into his hand. “But that doesn’t mean that you’re going to get me any time soon.”

“But I’m ready!” Jett lifts his hips and spreads his thighs even further apart. “Look at how ready I am.”

Kendall chuckles. “Always so easy for me.” He slicks up the toy in his hand, then wipes the excess lube onto Jett’s stomach. Jett shifts his hips again, deliberately rocking the sling so that he bumps into Kendall’s hip. It earns him a slap on the thigh but nothing more and Jett crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. 

“Looks like you’re going to be needing the cuffs,” Kendall comments, setting the toy aside. He unbuckles one of the leather cuffs and takes hold of Jett’s left hand. Kendall bends his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of Jett’s wrist before buckling the cuff in place and locking it to the left sling support. He repeat the process with Jett’s right wrist, then smiles indulgently down at Jett. “What a pretty picture you make,” he says, give the sling a little tug towards him. 

Jett glowers at him. “Not pretty enough for you to put your cock in me,” he says with a sniff.

“Don’t make me break out the ball gag,” Kendall warns. “You know you hate it.” Jett gives him a mulish look, but doesn’t say anything. Kendall beams in response. “That’s my good boy.” His teeth scrape along his bottom lip and he looks up at Jett through his lashes. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, reaching for the toy. 

Jett slides down in the sling, lifting his ass as he spreads his thighs. It’s a shameless, desperate move, and it earns him an amused huff from Kendall, who shakes his head wryly. “So eager to please,” he says, rubbing the slick tip of the toy against Jett. Jett lets out a low moan, pressing back so that the tip of it enters him. “No so fast,” Kendall chides. “This one is a bit bigger than anything you’ve had before.”

“I can take it,” Jett replies, angling his hips to try to get more in. 

Kendall laughs. “I’m sure you can, but let’s take our time with it, okay? I’ve got plans for you, boy, and I need you to be pretty damn pliant for them to work.”

Jett makes a whimpering sound as Kendall pushes the toy barely half an inch deeper. “Please,” he begs. “Please give me more.”

“Shhh.” Kendall rubs a finger along the edge of the toy, pressing firmly down on the stretched skin.

“Please,” Jett pants, “oh, god, Kendall, _please_.” 

Kendall gives him a look that makes Jett buck and twist his hips. “That’s right,” Kendall praises, giving him another half an inch, “work it deeper, stretch yourself wide on it. Get all nice and loose for me, because I’m going to use you hard tonight, my beautiful boy. I’m going to tear you apart, leave you raw, fuck you for hours, and this is all the prep you’re going to get.”

Jett arches his back, hands squeezing tight on the sling supports. “Yes. Oh, please, yes.” 

“That’s right, boy, beg me for it. Tell me how much you want it, how desperate you are to get my cock up that pert little ass of yours.” 

Jett babbles something that seems to please Kendall and he pets Jett’s thigh, soothing him as he pushes the toy deeper still. There is enough of it inside him now for Jett to feel comfortably full, but the widest part is still to come. He sucks on his lower lip, head thrashing from side to side as he bares down. “More,” he whimpers, “please, give me more. Let me have it all. Open me wide for you. Please, I want to take it. I want everything.”

“Of course you do,” Kendall says, a fond smile in place. “That’s why you are my favorite. Because you like it so much, want so badly to please me. Don’t you, boy?”

Jett nods frantically. “Yes, I do. I...” he tosses his head back as the toy slides in deeper. It feels like it is splitting him open and he can’t help but whine. He instinctively lifts his knees towards his chest, trying to make more room. 

Kendall leans forward and drops a quick kiss on his knee. “You’re doing so well,” he says, his voice a gentle croon. “Almost there now. You’re so close. You can take it, can’t you? Be a good boy, take it all for me, and I’ll fuck you.”

“Yes,” Jett answers, though his stomach is quivering and god, he’s so full. _It’s too big,_ he thinks, feeling panicked. _It will never fit._ He bites down hard on his bottom lip to keep the words from escaping.

“What color are you, boy?” Kendall asks, his voice husky. 

“Gre--” Jett starts to say, but is interrupted by a sharp slap on the thigh.

“Don’t you lie to me,” Kendall snaps. “What color are you?”

“Yellow,” Jett confesses, cringing on the inside. “It’s so big, oh god, Kendall, it’s so big. I can’t take it. It won’t fit. I,” he turns his head away, eyes squeezing shut, “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

There is the sound of a bottle being uncapped and then a slick, wet finger is rubbing around the edge of the toy, massaging the sensitive tissue. “Yes, you can,” Kendall assures him. “I know you can. Just a little more, my precious, wonderful boy. Just a little bit more. Won’t you try and take just a little more for me?”

Jett nods, unable to speak as his hands clench and unclench around the supports. He makes a high, frantic noise as he bares down and, fuck. It hurts so much he screams. But then the widest part slips inside and the pain goes back to a bearable level. He pants, his head hanging down towards his chest. Jett feels himself clamp down on the relatively narrow bottom of the toy, feels the end rest tight against him. Kendall’s fingers brush against him and Jett lets out a moan. 

“God, look at you,” Kendall says, his voice a mix of awe and pride. He drops to his knees, rests his cheek on Jett’s inner thigh, and blows on Jett’s poor, stretched ass. Jett whimpers as Kendall’s tongue snakes out, licking around the base of the toy. Kendall pulls back slightly, “Do you like that?” he asks.

“Yes,” Jett says, “Christ, I love it. Your tongue felt so good. Please, Kendall, do it again. Please lick me again.”

Kendall nips at the crease of his thigh, then sucks gently on the same spot. “Okay, I will. But only if you tell me how it feels, boy. Talk to me the whole time I do it, or I’ll stop.”

“I will, I promise,” Jett instantly respons. “God, just lick me again and I’ll talk all night. I’ll talk till my throat is raw from it, I swear, just please, Kendall.” And then Kendall does, god, he does, his tongue coming out in hard, long strokes. Jett keeps his end of the promise, babbling how fucking amazing it feels in between moans and grunts until his throat really is raw and Kendall’s tongue stops being enough.

* 

The color thing took a while to get use to. Not because Jett didn’t understand the concept, hell, a two-year-old could grasp the basis. Green for “good, having fun,’’ yellow for “stressed out, but still okay,” and red for “holy fuck, stop right now.” Simple, easy, and impossible for Jett to report honestly. Or at least it had been. Because, really? He was supposed to just _say_ when he was pushed too far? And Kendall would stop? Without there being any ramifications? _Really?_

Yeah. Right. And the sun was going to rise in the west and there was going to be enough good food for everyone left in the world to eat and Jett wasn’t going to die painfully when he reached twenty. Sure. He believed that. Same as he believed in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. 

Only problem was, Kendall got really, really pissed when Jett refused to admit that he was anything other than green. And when Kendall got really, really pissed, Jett got really, really scared. Because... why would Kendall keep him around when all Jett did was piss him off? And then Kendall just up and stopped having sex with him at all and, well, Jett really didn’t respond well to that. Because, honestly, if they weren’t having sex, then Jett didn’t have any purpose in Kendall’s life at all. Especially not when Kendall had three brother-husbands, a sexy wife, and Jo in the picture as well. 

So Jett had freaked out spectacularly and ended up throwing himself at James in a desperate bid for some sort of affection. Which, to put it mildly, was a disaster. Not for lack of interest on James’ part, or even Jett’s for that matter. But because Kendall walked in when they were just starting, James wasn’t even naked yet and Jett barely had an inch of James’s cock in his mouth, but god. From the way Kendall reacted James might as well have been buried to the balls in Jett’s ass while flaying him alive. 

It turned out that Kendall had a jealous streak a mile wide where Jett was concerned. Who knew? 

Which meant that Kendall hauled off and punched James-- gave him a fat lip and everything-- before yanking Jett to his feet and frogmarching him back to his quarters, where he proceeded to give Jett and hour-long lecture on the rules of their relationship. He even wrote them down on a paper and made Jett pin them to the fridge. 

The Rules: 

1\. Never lie.  
2\. Never touch anyone other than Kendall without permission.  
3\. Never lie.  
4\. Always come to Kendall when he had a problem  
5\. Never lie.  
6\. Don’t pretend like things are alright when they aren’t.  
7\. Never lie.

Jett had, of course, pointed out that one, three, five, and seven were all the same rule. Kendall had replied that Jett had a hard time remembering, so it was best to repeat the important bits. There had been a little more shouting, then a lot more sex, then some snuggling, the end effect of which was that Jett pretty much kept honest when it came to the color code and Kendall pretty much let things slide when Jett didn’t. 

The rules, for the record, were eventually framed and hung over the bed in Jett’s room. And, about five months after that happened, Jett noticed an eighth one, written in Kendall’s writing. It said simply _Remember that Kendall loves you with all his heart_.

*

Kendall pulls back far enough to see Jett’s face. His fingers ghost along the edge of the toy, tap on the end of it and then twist it slightly, and Jett can’t help but moan. His whole body arches up as he pants. “Please,” he begs, his voice broken and raw. “Please, Kendall, take it out of me. I want you. Please, let me have you.”

Kendall smiles at him, so sweet it ought to be a crime, and says, “No.” 

Jett lets out a sob, tears pooling in his eyes as he clutches at the supports of the sling. “Oh God, Kendall, what do I have to do? How do I have to ask? Tell me, I’ll do it. I’ll say anything, do anything, to have you in me now.”

“Anything?” Kendall asks, his fingers plucking at the end of the toy, making it shift and move inside of Jett. “Anything at all?” 

“Yes,” Jett promises. “Oh, fuck, yes. Whatever you want. Just tell me and I’ll do it.”

Kendall’s eyes gleam. “Good,” he says softly. “Good.” He licks his lips. “It’s very simple, what I want you to do. So very, very simple. I’m going to pull this,” and he tugs hard on the toy, causing Jett to keen as he bucks and writhes, “out. And you,” he leans forward and taps Jett’s lips, “aren’t going to make a sound. If you do, then that’s it. You’re done for the night. I’ll unstrap you, clean you up and put you to bed. But if you keep quiet like a good boy, oh love. The fun times we’ll have.”

Jett’s eyes go wide. “Keep quiet?” he repeats, voice high with panic. “You’re going to take it out and I need to keep quiet?” His stomach feels like it has hollowed out. “I can’t. That’s,” he says his head, shuts his eyes tight to keep the tears leaking out of them. 

“Shh,” Kendall soothes, his hand coming up to cup Jett’s cheeks. “Hush, my lovely.” His thumb brushes across Jett’s lower lip. “You can do this. I know you can. You’re my precious, wonderful boy. You want so badly to serve me, don’t you?”

Jett nods helplessly. “Yes,” he whispers. 

“And you said you would do anything for me. Anything at all, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Jett repeats, his hands still clutched tight on the supports.

Kendall gives him a fond look. “I know you can do this for me. I know you can. It will be hard, but you are such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Jett squeezes his eyes shut again. “Yes,” he says, a sob caught up in the word. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Kendall croons. He clucks his tongue. “Are you really that worried?” 

Jett nods helplessly, unable to say anything, for fear his words will betray him. He wants so badly to please Kendall, but he can’t do this. He knows he can’t. 

Kendall runs his hands down Jett’s arms, twines his fingers around Jett’s, pulling them away from the supports until it is him that Jett is clinging to. “Would it help if I put the ball gag in?” he asks quietly. 

Jett jerks back, his grip on Kendall’s hands loosening as he shakes his head no. 

Kendall’s eyes go wide. “What’s your color?” he demands, worry stamped on his face.

“Yellow,” Jett replies. 

“Just yellow?”

Jett nods. 

Kendall sighs. “But you aren’t happy about the idea of the ball gag?”

Jett sucks on his bottom lip, contemplating his answer. He hates the ball gag. It’s terrible, makes him feel like he can’t swallow properly, like he can’t _breathe_. Whenever it is in, Jett is convinced he’s going to choke on his own spit and die mid-scene. But... he wouldn’t be able to make noise. Not really. And, as much as he’s certain it will happen, he has never once had it choke him. 

“I,” he glances to the side, cheeks flushing with embarrassment, unable to continue for a moment. “I can try it. If you think it will help,” he says finally.

“Oh, precious,” Kendall praises. “I will be right here. I promise. I’ll stay with you the whole time it’s on you, I swear. And the second this,” his fingers brush against the toy again and Jett sucks on his lips to keep from moaning, “is out of you, I will take it off. You can wear it till then, can’t you? To help you keep quiet for me?”

“Yes,” Jett promises, his eyes locked on Kendall’s. 

Kendall’s smile, in response, is enough to light up the night.

*

Trust is a wonderful, magical gift. Trust, in Jett’s mind, is more precious than love. Because love isn’t something that is easily killed, but trust can vanish in less than a second. 

Jett loved Kendall well before he trusted him. Loved him with all his being, body and soul combined, before he fully learned to stop hiding from him. Before he was comfortable sleeping through the night with him. Before he could look Kendall in the eye while they made love. 

Trust is the most precious gift that Jett could ever give. And he has given all of his to Kendall. 

*

Jett wills himself not to breathe hard as Kendall slips the ball gag in place, calming his body as best he can while he works his jaw, teeth biting into the rubber. It’s not going to hurt him. Kendall would never let it hurt him. Not really. And it will help him keep control while Kendall removes the toy. Jett rarely, if ever, makes noise while the ball gag is in place. Still, he really, really hates the thing. 

“You remember what to do if you want out?” Kendall questions as he adjusts the straps to fit. Jett nods and grunts loudly three times in a row. “Good boy,” Kendall praises, his hand stroking Jett’s calf. “Comfortable?” he asks and Jett nods again. Kendall smiles, his hand still stroking gently back and forth. “I’m going to go slow, and you’re not to make a sound. Understand?” Jett nods again and bites down hard as Kendall wraps his other hand around end of the toy and begins to draw it from Jett’s body.

It’s big, bigger than Jett remembered, pushing him apart and Jett has to draw a harsh breath through his nose to keep himself from wailing. _Oh fuck_ , he thinks desperately, his hands clawing at the sling’s supports, _it’s going to tear me open._. He closes his eyes tight as his head thrashes from side to side, but he doesn’t make a sound other than muffled panting.

“You’re doing so well,” Kendall tells him, still stroking his calf while he pulls that hateful toy slowly, ever so slowly, out of Jett’s body. Jett focuses on Kendall’s face, on the feeling of his hand on Jett’s thigh, instead of the stretch and burn between his legs. 

He sucks air in desperately, tears streaming down his face, but he doesn’t moan. He doesn't cry out. He doesn’t so much as whimper. He just focuses on Kendall and how happy this is making him, sinking deeper and deeper into the hazy feeling of subspace. And the whole time Kendall talks to him, grounds him by telling him how beautiful he is, how perfect and wonderful and amazing he is. 

Jett shudders as the toy slips free of him, begging with his eyes for Kendall to remove the ball gag. Kendall gives him an indulgent look, his hand finally leaving Jett’s calf to unbuckle the hateful thing. 

“You did so well,” he says as he sets it back in its place on the tray. “So wonderfully well. Not a sound at all.” Kendall presses a kiss into Jett’s ankle, swift but gentle. Then he reaches up with a cloth to tenderly wipe the mess Jett’s made off of his face. “Such a good boy deserve a reward, doesn’t he?”

Jett chews nervously at his bottom lip, trying to make sense of the words. “A reward?” he repeats.

Kendall gives him a beatific smile. “Yes, my lovely, a reward.” He leans forward and nuzzles at Jett’s neck. “What would you like?”

Even as muzzy headed as Jett is, he still knows the answer to that question instantly. “You to hold me.” It’s what he always wants, whenever he’s coming back down.

“Is that all?” Kendall asks as he sets about freeing Jett from the sling. 

Jett ducks his head, feeling bashful. “I want you to hold me,” he repeats, “while you make love to me.”

“Oh, darling,” Kendall’s voice is soft and sweet, like a caress. “How are you so perfect? It’s like you were made just for me.” 

Jett wants to tell Kendall that he’s wrong, that Kendall is the one who is perfect, the one made just for Jett, but he can’t quite find the words, still feels vaguely lightheaded and unable to process things fully. Not with Kendall this close to him, moving around him, manipulating him body as he eases Jett out of the sling, helping him to stand before rubbing his wrist and arms. Jett sways a bit, unsteady on his feet. “Lean on me, my love,” Kendall says, wrapping his strong arm around Jett and helping him make his way out of the room, down the hall and to their bed. 

Once there, Kendall has him wait by the door as he strips off the blankets. Then he calls Jett over and lays him down lovingly on top of the sheets before dropping gentle kisses to all the vulnerable places on Jett’s body: the arches of his feet, the underside of his knees, the hollow of his hipbones, the insides of his elbows, the pulse points in his wrists. 

“I love you,” Kendall whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I love you so much I ache from it. So much that I think I’ll unravel if I don’t have you near.” He kisses the side of Jett’s throat, then nibbles his way up Jett’s neck, along his jaw and then to his lips. “My beautiful, wonderful boy. My everything, my all.”

He presses Jett’s thighs apart and settles himself between them. “Do you love me, boy?” 

Jett nods, unable to say the words. 

Kendall touches Jett’s lips, then places a hand over his heart. “Beating so fast, just for me.” He shifts so that he is kneeling, lined up perfectly, head teasing at Jett’s hole. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his lips brushing against Jett’s temple. “Are you sure this is the reward you crave?”

Jett wraps his arms around Kendall’s neck, pulling him down close so he can whisper in his ear, “Yes,” over and over again, like a benediction, like a prayer, as Kendal rocks inside him, gentle as the night.


End file.
